


Ghost of Hope

by EllieL



Category: Gone With the Wind - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-12
Updated: 2006-06-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 16:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: As Rhett sits watch over Bonnie's body, Scarlett decides it's time to be honest.





	Ghost of Hope

Just the effort of walking from her bed to his door had   
tired her; Scarlett was unsure if this was because she was   
still recovering from her fall and miscarriage, or because   
of the overpowering grief at the loss of her daughter.   
  
For just a moment that terrible afternoon, she had felt a   
flicker of hope in the future, as Rhett had spoken with her   
on the patio about going on a second honeymoon, of starting   
over. Less than a minute later all of that had been   
shattered. Even whatever residual strength she'd found in   
having Rhett near her was gone, as he had seemed to descend   
into a madness near to what her father had experienced   
following her mother's death. She couldn't bear to see   
Rhett like that; her own pains had been pushed aside once   
again to face Rhett.  
  
Heaving a sigh, she raised her hand and rapped gently on   
the dark wood of Rhett's door. "Rhett? Rhett, it's   
Scarlett." She waited to be met only with silence. Her   
brain was in no place to be playing mind games with Rhett,   
so she opted to be frank. "Rhett, I would like to come in   
and see our daughter. If you don't answer, I'm coming   
inside."  
  
Before she could count to ten, the door creaked open to   
reveal a shaded room, illuminated by two hurricane lamps in   
the far corners. She let out a gasp, not at her daughter's   
body, but at the haggard appearance of Rhett. Upon seeing   
Rhett's face, her gaze locked, not even traveling to take   
in Bonnie's body on the bed. He stepped back to let her   
enter the room, but she turned to keep her eyes on him. As   
far as she could tell, he'd not even changed his clothes   
since the accident yesterday afternoon.  
  
Scarlett was exhausted, ill, and emotionally devastated,   
but she could tell then that she would have to bite back   
whatever comments she had wanted to make to him. Now, he   
needed her to be there for him as he had been there for her   
in the past. Impulsively, she stepped back towards him,   
wrapping her arms around him.   
  
Rhett tensed as Scarlett's arms encircled him; she had   
never been one to show sympathy or affection, particularly   
towards him. "Scarlett?" His voice crackled from tears   
and disuse, but his confusion was evident.  
  
"I...." She was unsure what to say to him, what would make   
it right. As she tried to think, her emotions overrode her   
brain, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. She   
allowed herself to cry, wrapped around Rhett, as words   
came, unbidden. "I've lost everyone but you."  
  
They stood for a moment, Rhett's hands cautiously roaming   
Scarlett's back, before he responded. "What do you mean?"   
Had she been listening closely, the trepidation he felt   
would have been clear.  
  
"Everyone I've ever cared about, I've lost. Except you.   
But now I'm so afraid you'll leave too. You once told me   
you didn't believe I'd ever been afraid of anything. Well,   
I'm afraid of that."  
  
He tried to interrupt her, but she placed her fingers on   
his lips to silence him. Now that the words were coming,   
she was afraid that if she didn't tell him now, she never   
would. "When you left with Bonnie, I was so afraid then   
that you weren't coming back, especially after I realized   
about...about the baby. I was so happy when you did   
return, but I was also afraid of letting you know how I   
really felt. So I was horrible to you, and then...I fell.   
I needed you then more than ever, more even than when you   
helped me leave Atlanta all those years ago, but I was also   
still scared. I think I had been scared so much by what   
has happened between us, I didn't think I could ask for   
you, or that you would come to me if I did."   
  
The pause was full of gravity as Scarlett tried to find   
words to fit her feelings. "And now...god's nightgown,   
Rhett, this whole year has been so terrible for me. I'm   
tired of being afraid. I can't go on with this game   
anymore. I'm so weary I can barely able to walk to your   
door and be honest with you."  
  
She'd done what she didn't want to do, she'd fallen back on   
him, asked him to hold her up again. But now it was done;   
the words couldn't be taken back. She wouldn't even if she   
could. She'd meant every one of them. Now, she could only   
hope that the old Rhett would surface, and hold up both of   
them.  
  
Rhett was silent as he led her over to the divan by the   
shaded window. Without a word, he wearily sank down onto   
it, pulling her down beside him. For a long minute, his   
eyes locked with hers, willing her to look away, to show   
any sign of weakness. She met them, knowing that he would   
easily read the emotions bubbling to the surface, emotions   
she was to exhausted to hide.  
  
"If two minutes ago, someone had told me you would come in   
here and tell me this, then asked what I would do, I never   
would have believed them, but I would have told them I   
would throw you back out of the room." His eyes drifted   
away from hers only long enough to look at Bonnie's   
lifeless form, as if to reassure himself this wasn't some   
terrible farce. "Now we both know I'd have been lying.   
I've been through a lot of fear and hurt in these past few   
months, too. When I was gone, I had myself convinced I   
didn't love you, that I could leave you. But when you were   
hurt, it just proved what a liar I was, even to myself.   
Part of me wanted to leave. I'll be honest--a small part   
of me still wants to leave. I've always been a coward who   
runs away, but I'll be damned if it's going to happen now.   
We've both been through too much to just walk away."  
  
Scarlett glanced over to the bed where Bonnie lay before   
meeting his gaze. Happily, she noted that his face looked   
less like a corpse than it had when she'd entered the room.   
Hiding somewhere in his eyes was the ghost of hope. A   
million desires overwhelmed her at once, leaving her unsure   
whether she should laugh, cry, or continue in their first   
civil discussion in what seemed like years; the only thing   
she was sure of was that she wasn't leaving Rhett's side   
any time soon.  
  
"I'm sorry, Rhett, I truly am. Admittedly, I probably   
married you for the wrong reasons, at least consciously,   
but I never wanted things to get this bad between us."  
  
"Scarlett, we're not going to play the sorry game with   
this. We've both done things we shouldn't have, and both   
of us deserve some of the blame for this. And this is very   
far from where I wanted us to be when I asked you to marry   
me. I loved you, and wanted to spoil you the way I spoil   
Bonnie." After a second, he choked out a correction in   
tense. "Spoiled. I spoiled Bonnie."  
  
For the first time in all the years she'd known him, tears   
streamed down Rhett's face, as his gaze vacillated between   
his wife and dead daughter. Uncertain of how to react,   
Scarlett followed her instinct and pulled him to her,   
resting his head on her shoulder. Taking comfort in his   
closeness, she could barely process what he'd just admitted   
to her. He loved her? Why had he never told her? He had   
spoken in the past tense-did he still? But now was not the   
time to press these questions. This hesitant truce would   
suffice for the time being.  
  
"Rhett, Bonnie was the happiest child I've ever seen. Even   
happier than I was when I was a little girl. She loved   
you, and I'm glad that one of my children had a happy   
life." Sadness and regret tinged her voice as she held   
back her own tears. "Come to bed, Rhett, and get some   
sleep. Things will feel a little better tomorrow, after   
sleep and something to eat."  
  
Pulling away from their embrace, she rose from the divan   
and offered her hand to him. Once more she was afraid,   
afraid that he would rebuff her, and startled by her   
boldness in inviting him back to her bed, even if it was   
simply to sleep.  
  
His warm hand met hers, and he slowly arose from the   
cushions. In the silence, the crackling of his knees was   
audible. Scarlett realized with a start how much older   
than she he was, and what a toll their constant bickering   
must have taken. The haggard, aged face she met upon   
entering the room returned to her mind, and thought of how   
much she had aged him. She would have to make it up to   
him; this could be righted, she knew, if they both tried.  
  
With a last lingering look at Bonnie, stretched out on the   
bed, Rhett turned to the hurricane lamps and blew them out.   
In the dim light, they made their way to the door, hand in   
hand.   
  
****  
  
Scarlett awoke to an unusual warm weight around her waist.   
For a panicked split second, she started to pull away,   
until she realized it was Rhett holding her close. They   
went to bed like strangers, keeping close to their   
respective sides of the massive bed, but in the night   
they'd found their way together.   
  
Her sudden movement woke Rhett, and he groggily greeted   
her. "Good morning, Scarlett."  
  
"Yes, it is, in spite of everything." She turned in his   
embrace, a smile gracing her face for the first time in   
months.  
  
One finger lightly traced the deep circles under her eyes.   
"Did you sleep well? You look as if you haven't been   
lately."  
  
Dropping her eyes and pulling back slightly from his touch,   
she struggled with a mixture of sadness and anger before   
deciding to simply address his concern. No more   
bitterness, she reminded herself. "No, I haven't been   
sleeping well at all. I can't remember the last time   
before last night when I did."  
  
His embrace tightened, and she burrowed her head against   
his chest, muffling her words. "No, I can remember   
exactly."  
  
Rhett left her a moment to continue before pressing her.   
"And when was that, darling?"  
  
Now she was glad her face was hidden, as it flushed with   
shame, regret, and a flurry of emotions she wasn't capable   
of classifying. "The last night we spent together. I just   
wish I'd woken up to this the next morning." Try as she   
might, Scarlett couldn't prevent a hint of bitterness from   
mingling with her sad tone.  
  
Before responding, Rhett cleared his throat and kissed the   
crown of her still-hidden head. "That, in spite of my   
earlier statements of no-fault, I will apologize for. For   
both my behavior that night and the next morning."  
  
Meeting his eyes, Scarlett could see open honesty for   
perhaps the first time since she'd met him. Impulsively,   
she tilted her head up and kissed him ever-so-tenderly on   
the lips.  
  
Both were surprised by the kiss. Not wanting to overstep   
her confused boundaries, Rhett let Scarlett take the lead,   
and was disappointed when she broke away and once again hid   
her face. He reached down and tilted her chin back up,   
forcing her to look at him.  
  
"Scarlett, you don't have to embarrassed for kissing me.   
You are still my wife, after all."  
  
"Yes, I know I am." Her mouth hung agape as she tried to   
gather her wits about her, to understand the emotions   
swirling around her mind, severely temping Rhett to kiss   
her. Seconds before he gave into the urge, she continued   
with a sigh. "And as your wife, I think it's my   
responsibility to get us out of this bed and fed, so we can   
deal with today."  
  
The implications of 'today' hung ponderously, despite the   
lightness with which she'd spoken. She hoped that as   
husband and wife, they'd somehow find the peace of mind to   
make it through the impending funeral for their daughter.  
  
****  
  
Low clouds hung over the cemetery, matching the mood of   
those paying their respects to Bonnie. Clasped tightly to   
Rhett's arm, Scarlett stared down at the damp ground; a pit   
the color of dried blood opened up a step away from her,   
waiting to claim her child. Her mind swirled, and she was   
suddenly unaware of how she'd come to be standing here.   
The curious looks of Atlanta's Old Guard were unnoticed by   
her as she wrapped her arms around Rhett.  
  
Looking down at Scarlett, Rhett was unable to distinguish   
the tears on Scarlett's face from the falling rain. More   
than her tears, he was startled by the public display of   
emotion she was engaged in. Yet he too needed comfort this   
day, and was immensely grateful for her slender arms   
tightly embracing him.  
  
Scarlett paid little attention to the droning of the priest   
over the tiny mahogany coffin. She could look at little   
besides the gaping hole in front of her, interspersed with   
brief glances up at Rhett's face. She expected his face to   
be the same expressionless mask he always presented in   
public when he wasn't being devilishly charming, but today   
grief was clear in his eyes. When their gazes met during   
the service, she thought there was something else there,   
something which bordered on affection. That realization   
was too much for her to deal with at that moment, so she   
simply accepted that they would survive this together, and   
remained tucked closely into his side.  
  
With difficulty, she suffered through the polite   
condolences of Mrs. Merriweather and her ilk before   
practically running to their carriage. Both Scarlett and   
Rhett sat in a heavy silence at the driver started home.   
No words were needed as they processed their grief, needing   
to find their own peace with it before they could discuss   
their own future.  
  
****  
  
For as often as she'd hated enforced bed rest, Scarlett   
could find little will to do anything besides collapse into   
its downy embrace. She'd made it up the stairs with her   
arms wrapped around Rhett, and he'd helped her into bed   
without saying a word. Now dinner had passed her by as she   
slept, and she wondered where he'd gone.   
  
No light broke through the heavy drapes, and she wondered   
what time it was as she rose from the bed in search of her   
wrapper. With a glance at the clock on the mantle, she was   
startled to find it nearly midnight.  
  
At this hour, she had no desire to deal with the servants,   
even Mammy, and pulled her wrapper tightly around her as   
she made her way down to the kitchen. The light slipping   
out beneath the dining room door gave her pause, however.   
For a long moment, she stood staring, remembering the last   
time she'd encountered Rhett late at night in that room.   
With a sigh, she stepped forward and quietly slid the door   
open.  
  
In the shadows at the far end of the table sat Rhett, a   
full glass and nearly full decanter of whiskey in front of   
him. Unsure of what to say to him, she remained silent as   
she slowly walked the length of the room to his side, where   
she knelt on the floor.  
  
Tortured but sober eyes gazed down at her, red with unshed   
tears. His knuckles were white as they gripped the glass,   
filled nearly to the brim.  
  
"Rhett..." Hesitantly, she began, uncertain of what to say   
to him, but knowing he needed comfort as much as she did.   
He had been so strong for her, and now she must be strong   
for him. Her eyes settled on the decanter as she tried to   
compose her thoughts.  
  
"Did I, in my pitiable state, interrupt your quest for a   
nightcap, my pet?" The biting tone had returned, but the   
malice that had resounded behind such comments in the past   
was absent.  
  
This was some sort of test, she knew. It was best now to   
just be honest with him, and perhaps he would return the   
favor, as he had been doing recently. "No, I haven't had   
anything to drink since...in a long time." That had   
sounded frail to her, but a glance had told her that it had   
somehow restored Rhett's civility. "I slept through   
dinner. I came down to find something to eat, and saw the   
light, and thought you might like some company. After all,   
you shouldn't drink alone, people will find out."  
  
The joke had been forced, but it earned her a faint smile   
from Rhett. "I haven't been, actually." Meditating on the   
glass, he turned it gently between his hands, pale beams of   
light refracting through the cut glass and caramel liquid.   
  
"I felt like I needed...something. I don't know what, it's   
not a feeling to which I'm accustomed." Bitterness rolled   
off him, tinged with sadness, and Scarlett placed a hand on   
his forearm as he continued. "You were asleep, and I   
didn't want to wake you, you needed it so badly. And   
liquor always served so well in the past to drown out all   
my problems."  
  
He paused once more and gestured to the nearly tacky   
decanter, very close to full of the expensive whiskey he   
loved. "But I couldn't do it this time. I don't want to   
bog down my feelings with whiskey, I want to stop them, so   
I never have to feel them again."  
  
Scarlett could never remember crying so easily over words   
before. She rose and wrapped her arms around him as he   
slumped in the chair. "Come to bed, then. You need the   
rest as much as I do." Whisper-soft fingers traced over   
his face, which was looking craggier than she remembered,   
rapidly aged by his life with Scarlett. "Please."  
  
That was one word he'd never heard her sincerely utter   
before. The concern in her tone was clear, if weary. How   
she could be looking after anyone the way she herself was   
feeling amazed Rhett, and he moved to rise from the table.  
  
"Go get yourself something to eat, Scarlett, and I'll meet   
you upstairs."  
  
"No." Both paused at the soft vehemence in her voice.   
"No, I've gone without food before. Missing a meal when   
I'm well-fed won't hurt me. I'd like to walk back up with   
you."  
  
A flash of pity crossed Rhett's face as he nodded, willing   
to let her have this battle, knowing too well that what she   
said was true.   
  
Neither of them spoke as they put out the two dim lamps in   
the room and made their way out into the hallway.   
Illuminated by tinted moonlight streaming through gaudy   
stained glass, the psychologically battered pair climbed up   
the stairs with their arms wrapped comfortably around one   
another.  
  
****  
  
Nebulous grey swirled around her, the only spots of   
lightness in a universe of black. Faint shapes would   
appear and recede as she walked through the dark landscape,   
foreign yet somehow deeply familiar. She took a step to   
the left, and could feel herself narrowly skirting an   
unseen sinkhole, bits of earth crumbling away underfoot.   
  
There was something here she must find, but she wasn't sure   
what or why. Only that it was terribly important that she   
do so. A large oak rose to her right, it's silhouetted   
form darker even than the black night surrounding her. The   
fog parted enough for her to see a boy and a girl, children   
really, flirting under its protective branches; quickly,   
the image was swallowed up again.  
  
Turning away, a shadow brushed past her, close enough to   
feel the breeze and swirling mist, hoof-beats cantering   
past. Faintly, so softly she could barely hear even in   
this near silence, she thought a laugh trailed back to her,   
tinged with a familiar brogue. Had the figure been Pa?   
She had to stop him, he shouldn't be riding!  
  
But then another, smaller, figure galloped past, hell-bent,   
it seemed, on catching up with the much larger horse. This   
figure was much tinier, almost a child on a pony. Bonnie!   
She was racing Pa! They shouldn't, oh they can't, they'll   
both end up hurt! He shouldn't be jumping at all, and her   
pony will never make it over the fences Pa's horse can!  
  
She had to stop them. Turning around in the thickening   
fog, she lost track of the direction the riders had headed,   
but could still hear the faint sound of hooves. Someone   
had to help her. She needed to find someone. Rhett, Rhett   
always helped her. Where was he? He had to be here   
somewhere. Oh, Rhett, please, find me, help me. I've got   
to stop Bonnie.  
  
Trying to cry out, she found her voice muffled by the fog.   
It felt as if she were shouting to herself; even Bonnie and   
Gerald must be unable to hear her intermittent pleas to   
stop, to return and visit with her. And why wasn't Rhett   
coming? She thought she'd been calling his name for an   
eternity, breaking down in tears at the terrible sense of   
aloneness and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm   
her.  
  
Suddenly, Rhett's voice seemed very close, very warm, very   
safe. He was calling to her, but she couldn't see him   
through the fog, and couldn't make out what he was saying   
to her. Pitifully, she sobbed out his name.  
  
With a jolt, she was sitting, wrapped securely in Rhett's   
arms. She was still in the dark, but this darkness was   
tempered by moonbeams spilling through breaks in the   
draperies. It took a moment for her to regain enough   
control to wrap her own arms around Rhett and pull him   
closer to her, pressing her teary face to his chest.  
  
"It's all right, Scarlett, I'm here, I'm here." His voice   
was soothing, gentle, and it broke through her blind panic.   
  
She pulled back slightly from him, needing space to catch   
her breath, but not wanting to move far from his arms. Her   
eyes roamed the room, all dark shadows and silver accents.   
Even Rhett's face was shadowed, but enough pale light   
caught his eyes to show their concern.  
  
"I'm...you...I couldn't...," she gasped, trying to reassure   
both of them and failing miserably. Only after several   
deep breaths was she able to choke a coherent sentence out   
between sobs. "I couldn't find you to stop them."  
  
"Stop who, darling?" His velvet tone soothed her nerves,   
and the tears slowed. Even subconsciously, it seemed that   
her body was calmed by his presence. One of his hands came   
up to brush tears from her face as the other pulled her   
closer to him again as he moved to rest against the   
headboard.  
  
"I was in the fog, like the nightmare I used to have."   
Rhett nodded encouragingly, his lips brushing the top of   
her head as he did so. "But this was different."  
  
She paused for a moment, trying to sort out both how   
precisely this had differed, and compose herself further.   
"I could almost see people in the fog. I swear Pa rode   
past me. And then, oh, and then, just as I was worrying   
about him, there was someone else, someone smaller.   
Bonnie." Her voice was very small, even in her own ears.  
  
"Shh, it was just a nightmare."  
  
"No, but that's not all, Rhett." Scarlett gripped his hand   
tightly, needing him to understand, hoping she could   
telegraph everything to him without having to process it   
again herself. "I had to stop them, I just had to. I knew   
what would happen, both of them galloping off like mad.   
They were so alike in that. I was shouting for them to   
stop, to come back, and they didn't. Then I started   
yelling for you, and you weren't coming, either. You'd   
have been able to stop them, but you wouldn't come help   
me."  
  
"Oh, Scarlett." His voice broke, undone by grief and   
empathy. "I'd forgotten you lost your father the same   
way."  
  
She nodded without bothering to curb the flow of tears once   
again streaming down her face.  
  
"I believe you once talked to me about your fear of Hell.   
Can I take that to mean you also believe just as much in   
Heaven?"  
  
Startled and confused, she twisted in his arms, looking up   
at him in search of any trace of his old maliciousness.   
Not finding any, she tried to simply answer with honesty.   
"I-I suppose I do, Rhett."  
  
"Then you can be assured that your father is taking good   
care of our daughter."  
  
"Oh." She crushed him to her, raining teary kisses along   
his shoulder. "You should be reassured by that, too."  
  
Rhett's chest heaved with an uncharacteristic hitch, and   
Scarlett reached up to his face to find tears under her   
fingers. Was he really crying? She had no idea how to   
comfort him the way he could do for her.  
  
"Rhett, Rhett, it's all right-" Rhett's hand silenced her   
as he shook his head.   
  
"That's all you needed to say, Scarlett. I don't think   
I've gotten such perfect words of comfort since this   
happened. Why does it not surprise me that they're my   
words thrown back at me by you?" Gentle humor tinged his   
voice.  
  
For the briefest moment, she was thrown out of her sorrow   
into wondering what then his previous taunts must have   
meant to him. That thought was quickly cast aside by more   
pressing concerns.  
  
Tears gone, she dryly answered him. "Why, it doesn't   
surprise me in the least. You always have had a way of   
knowing just what to say." If only it had always been put   
to good, she thought.  
  
Rhett's only answer was a deep kiss as he pulled her back   
down into bed with him. This lacked the tenderness of his   
recent attentions, more closely recalling the kisses he'd   
given her what seemed lifetimes ago, which had left her   
nearly swooning.  
  
Seemingly satisfied with just one kiss, he pulled her into   
his arms as a child would a teddy bear. As they both   
drifted back into a more peaceful sleep, Scarlett had the   
brief revelation that such an embrace was as much to   
reassure himself as her. He hadn't addressed her concern   
over his role in her dream, but this insight almost seemed   
an answer to that question.  
  
****  
  
The roiling waves of steel grey clouds that had covered the   
sky for the past few weeks had finally parted, leaving the   
porch bathed in sunlight. Warmth seeped from the red clay   
bricks through Scarlett's slippers to warm her feet as she   
joined Rhett on a chaise just out of the sun.  
  
"I would think you'd prefer the sunlight, after so much   
time in the dark, Mr. Butler."  
  
He started out of the reverie he'd been in, tearing his   
gaze from the hedge-shrouded lawns. While overall he   
looked much healthier than he had when she'd walked into   
his room a week ago, Scarlett detected a lingering sadness   
about him.  
  
"It is good to be outside that monstrosity of a house,   
Scarlett." The taunting laugh failed to reach his eyes as   
she sat down next to him.  
  
"Maybe that's what we both need. Time outside together, in   
the warmth and sunlight." She nearly suggested going for a   
ride, something she hadn't taken the time to enjoy since   
before the war, when the image of Bonnie's prone form   
flashed in her mind. The idea was quickly dismissed, and   
she remained still, letting the sun's warmth reach the tips   
of her toes, as her slippers peeked out under the hem of   
her skirts.  
  
Rhett's eyes roved over her form, still discontent, but   
basking in the sun like a cat. "We could get outside this   
all together." For a long moment he was silent, summoning   
the resolve to continue. "Bonnie loved London. Perhaps   
you would too." He couldn't meet her eyes as he spoke, and   
she knew what that statement had cost him.  
  
"Oh, Rhett, I'd love to see London! But..." she stilled   
for a moment, wondering whether it was wise to venture a   
bit of jest. "I thought Bonnie said London was horribly   
dreary and rainy. Couldn't we go somewhere lovely and   
warm?"  
  
"Lovely and warm, darling?" Now his smile reached his   
eyes, catching a bit of her passion. "I'm sure the   
fashions of the French capital would be to your liking."  
  
Scarlett furrowed her brow. "You mean Paris?"  
  
A soft chuckle rumbled through Rhett's chest. "Yes,   
Scarlett, Paris. I see more education is necessary before   
we make the trip."  
  
"Oh." Scarlett shut down, refusing to respond to his   
taunt, but hurt just the same. It was only his firm grasp   
on her arm that prompted her to look at him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Scarlett. If we're going to start being civil   
again, I need to learn to stop mocking you as I do."  
  
An apologetic Rhett was something she was unprepared for.   
"Well, it's not all the mocking. Sometimes it makes me   
laugh, when I know you mean it to be funny. But sometimes   
it seems like you do it just to goad me for my faults. I'm   
aware enough of those on my own."  
  
"Would Paris serve as a suitable apology?"  
  
Scarlett managed to look angry for a few seconds before   
breaking into a smile. "Oh, yes Rhett, I'd like nothing   
better. Is it anything like New Orleans was?"  
  
A smile curled across Rhett's lips at her eagerness.   
"Bigger, and more elegant. Anything you want, you can have   
there."  
  
For a moment, visions of elegant dinners and evening walks   
drifted through her mind, then that deep awareness of her   
shortcomings rose again. "But I don't know a word of   
French! How on earth am I supposed to ask for anything?"  
  
"You're a fast learner, and I speak it passably well. You   
think you can learn a bit in the two weeks it will take to   
sail there?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure of it. Only, what about Wade and Ella? I   
feel terrible going off and leaving them, it would be   
wonderful for them to go too." She hesitated, unsure of   
how selfish she was willing to admit to being. "I want   
some time with you to myself. We have a lot to fix."  
  
Nodding slowly, Rhett wrapped his arm around her. "It's up   
to you. We can take them along if you'd like, but we can   
always go back again and take them if you enjoy it this   
time. Perhaps in a few more years, when they're old enough   
to appreciate everything they'll see."  
  
"I think I like that idea very much. How soon can we   
leave?"  
  
"Always the eager one, aren't you? Would a week be soon   
enough for you?"  
  
"Whenever you want to go, I'll go with you."  
  
Rhett used the leverage of his arm to pull her back onto   
the chaise with him. They rested in the silence of the   
afternoon, the bench slowly being bathed in warmth as the   
sun traveled across the afternoon sky.  
  
As happy as she was with the prospect of spending several   
months alone with Rhett, and traveling to Paris, a part of   
her remained concerned. She liked the new, easy peace   
they'd forged as without discussion he'd returned to her   
room, and they passed most evenings together. Yet worry   
nagged at her that by leaving, they were simply running   
away from their problems.   
  
The thoughts spun around in her brain, drawing her out of   
the afternoon and into her own head. If their problem was   
them, wouldn't it be just as easy to fix in Paris, or   
perhaps even easier there, without the distraction of their   
Atlanta roles? Or would it leave them with a false   
foundation for their future. Quickly, the thought of   
rebuilding their lives somewhere other than Atlanta or Tara   
crossed her mind. She rapidly dismissed the idea, knowing   
no other way of life than the one to which she was   
currently accustomed.   
  
When they rose to return to the house, Scarlett voiced her   
fears. "Rhett, will leaving really help? Of course I want   
to see Paris, but will going away from where all our   
problems are really fix anything at all?"  
  
Rhett froze, astonished at the mix of insight and   
trepidation. "Frankly my dear, I think getting out of   
Atlanta is exactly what we need. I wouldn't mind leaving   
for good, if we can find somewhere better to settle."  
  
"I don't know where I'd want to live. I've never lived   
anywhere but here or Tara." The naïveté shown through,   
leaving her feeling very much a child.  
  
"You're an adaptable, smart woman, Scarlett. You could   
live anywhere you decided you liked. That's one of the   
things I love about you. Anything you put your mind to,   
you accomplish. I may tease you about your lack of formal   
education, but you more than make up for it with wit and   
resourcefulness. That's something that can't be taught."  
  
Pride drew her up further into Rhett's embrace. "That's   
the kindest thing you've ever said to me. Thank you." She   
rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, willingly   
opening her mouth to his as he twisted to meet her lips.   
  
Reluctantly they broke apart, moving into the shade of the   
house. The idea of moving out of Atlanta and into a larger   
world overwhelmed her, but Rhett's confidence in her left   
her eager instead of fearful.

****

 


End file.
